Restivo

Restivo Jun 2010

Mine,

          If you ever worry that you are smothering me, that’s alright, I worry the same thing. I worry that one day you will become too much for me and I will need to detach. I rarely worry that I am smothering you; I suppose the irony in that ending is too sad for me to believe it would happen.
          But also know that my worry of suffocation becomes less and less and less and less and less as our time passes. I love your hands on my body and your breath on my skin. I enjoy your presence in my room when we are not touching. I like to think that sometimes you are thinking of me at the same time that I am thinking of you when we are separated by countless little towns and a few long hours.
          I also shake my head at my over-poetic dramatics. Would you truly overwhelm me, wrap me past the point of warmth and comfort, remove my oxygen, leave me kicking and gasping? How could either of us let it get to that point? If I am uncomfortable, I stretch, I rearrange my body, I lie back down next to you. If you sense I am unhappy, you shuffle yourself around, you ask if I’m more comfortable now.
          We need this honesty. There is nothing worse than two people, each lonely without the other, sitting alone because each thinks it’s what the other wants.

Yours.

Restivo Jun 2010

Love Letter VIII

Mine,

Today I miss you like a forgotten toothbrush. An uncomfortable feeling in the back of my mind that something’s not right. All day, it’s nagging me, not completely reaching my conscious thought, just there. Every time I forget about it, there’s a twinge in my memory, like something important is missing but I can’t quite form its idea fully. Today I miss you like I know that when I see you it will all click into place, oh, that’s what’s been missing this whole time! Click, as we fit together like puzzle pieces.

Yours.

Restivo Jun 2010

Love Letter VI

Mine,

Love is overrated. If I can feel this way about you without actually being in love, then I don’t need love. I only need you.

Yours.

Restivo Jun 2010

Love Letter III

Mine,

Thanks for forcing me to claim you as such. There was an unspoken, possibly unknown, ultimatum, to either claim you as my own or lose all that I was experiencing of you. The risk was getting too much, but the alternative was nothing at all. The risk meant belonging to someone too, myself, me being yours. Reciprocation has never been my strongest point, but I think I’m learning.

Yours.

Restivo Jun 2010

...thank you

You gave me your heart in a poetical way.
I figuratively hold this anatomically incorrect symbol in my hands…where do I put it?
For though it terrifies me, I know it is precious. I am worried of it…but I can still feel its warmth and I want to keep it close.
I cannot carry it. Absentminded as I am, I will place it somewhere and it will be gone forever.
I cannot keep it in my pocket. It will go through the wash and I will get it back shrunk and shriveled.
Maybe I will open a door in my breast and place it with my own heart…
But that is grotesque.
This perfectly symmetrical, immaculately red symbol cannot sit next to my own, lopsided, beating flesh!
The juxtaposition would unravel the facade and leave me with…what?
Nothing?
A puff of smoke?
A second heart, beating opposite my own, wearing me down?
Or would the disappeared symbol instead free its meaning throughout my body, disintegrating into tingles that run along my spine and down my arms and legs, that make me shiver imperceptibly as my motion is suddenly guarded, and yet pull up at the corners of my mouth, causing me wary warmth, this oxymoronic push-pull
- -
this feeling that makes me want to fight-or-flight to attack or recede inside myself that starts my adrenaline rushing from unwarranted panic yet also makes me want to freeze time as I close my eyes and smile slightly to bask in the redolent warmth to pull my extremities close in order to let them experience what starts in my chest and then stretch into a star for this feeling to extend its reach to my edges and further
- -
Then this symbol, this encasement of hard metaphor, becomes unwanted.
Its protection, previously so needed, becomes unbearable.
How can I hold it in my hands, in my pocket, coolly perfect, frozen in shape, knowing what it holds inside?
How can I not grit my teeth through the disquiet, the sweaty palms and surge in my gut, knowing the halcyon happiness that lays beyond?

I will not suffer this symbol to stay intact!
I will scratch lines in its colour!
I will peel its icy layers off one by one!
I will ****** it to the ground, and **** its sweet juices from the cracks!
I will descend upon it until it bursts, its shards transforming sweetly into its message.
Connotation broken into denotation, truth unobscured by this superfluous poetry.
This sensation, this meaning, this feeling, this actuality, this state, this phrase
- -
this i love you playing across my body running through my hair
- -
It simultaneously freezes and thaws me.

- may 2008

Restivo Jun 2010

time-travel

I time-travel in my dreams.
I am not awakening from sleep,
                    but returning from a sojourn to the past.
My eyes carry freshly-plucked anguish to the present -
                    though it belongs here only after being wrapped tightly by years of time,
                                        well-preserved but impossible to taste directly.

- june 2010

Restivo Jun 2010

geek haiku

Bootcamp helps me out:
running windows on a mac.
traitor to both sides!

--

I try and try, but
the force won’t bring me my juice.
sigh. robot it is.

--

the borg ship attacks!
shields down to twenty percent!
but first: earl gray, hot.

- 2009